The Krakow Klub Page 10

  As expected, the small ristorante was almost empty at this time of day. Stoellar asked for a small table toward the back of the dimly lit dining area and ordered a glass of Chianti. The waiter was totally disinterested in serving his diners and just shuffled back to the bar to fill the order, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

  “Great,” he thought aloud, “I didn’t come here to be recognized.”

  Alexei Pawlak was never surprised by a call for an impromptu meeting. He and Stoellar had known each other since childhood and Alexei, like Ivan, was totally devoted to the man. Stoellar, the brilliant manipulator, had ensured that loyalty by generously rewarding his friend throughout the years. He did not trust Alexei as much as he trusted Ivan, but it was close enough for Alexei.

  Pawlak entered the restaurant slowly, looking around suspiciously, as was his habit. He always moved deliberately, and now his giant frame dominated the entire room. At six feet five inches, he towered above others, and his wide shoulders and muscular frame made many people think of Rasputin. He wore his dark hair with rather long and unruly tendrils cascaded over his forehead in a medusa-like display. He always wore black clothing that only added to his menacing appearance.

  He greeted Stoellar briefly in a deep, raspy voice that bespoke his Eastern European heritage.

  Stoellar rose and shook his hand warmly. They sat down and leaned toward each other to converse without the possibility of anyone eavesdropping.

  “Alexei, my trusted friend,” he spoke in their native language, “I have a new assignment for you. I want you to contact General Lew McGowan and tell him to be prepared to initiate Operation Transplant. I have the appointment set for you. Here is an envelope for the general containing detailed instructions.”

  He paused to summon the waiter and order a second glass of Chianti for Alexei and an antipasto plate for them both.

  “McGowan will probably protest that he is not completely ready, but he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. You don’t need to know the details of the operation, but you can certainly understand that the president’s resignation has caused me to have to move up my timetable. I think that McGowan will see the wisdom of moving ahead quickly, but if he does not agree with the instructions in that envelope, have him call me immediately.”

  They stopped their conservation while the waiter delivered the wine and antipasti plates.

  After the waiter had left, Pawlak leaned towards Stoellar and smiled broadly. “I doubt that such a call will be necessary after I have properly explained the situation to him.”

  Stoellar smiled and replied, “My plane is fueled and waiting to take you to Fort Murray. Just go straight to the airport and report to my pilot. As usual, you have clothing and other supplies on the plane.”

  The unlikely pair continued to sip their wine and nibble from the selection of bruschetta, olives, salami, and prosciutto. They updated each other on their activities since their last meeting, and Stoellar was pleased with the work of his giant friend.

  As soon as they were finished, they shook hands, paid the bill, and went their separate ways. Stoellar had absolute confidence that Alexei could convince McGowan to move forward. When issuing instructions, Alex could always give an impressive and menacing glare that usually inspired immediate and total compliance with his instructions.

  ****

  As Stoellar waited for his taxi for the trip back to the penthouse, he thought of how easy it had been to recruit McGowan. He had a well-recognized weakness for women, and he frequently treated them very roughly.

  While on a tour of duty in Iraq, a young female soldier had caught his predatory eye. He began to find excuses to go to the motor pool where she worked, but she was not interested. Then late one evening, he saw an opportunity. He stood at a distance, obscured by a truck as she and her fellow mechanics finished up their workday. She waved goodbye to them after saying that she wanted to finish checking the retrofitted floor armor on a Humvee that she had been working on all that day.

  Soon, she was alone and vulnerable. McGowan crept silently up behind her and made his move. He grabbed her from behind, and she struggled fiercely. She succeeded in pushing him away and reached for a wrench lying on the ground. McGowan dodged her blow with the wrench and pushed her to the ground with his powerful arm around her throat from behind.

  He felt a sudden surge of uncontrolled rage and snapped her neck. He stood up slowly and reality flooded back to him. He almost panicked when a sentry rushed up, having heard the struggle. McGowan didn’t hesitate. He pulled his service pistol and shot the sentry in the head.

  Now, his adrenaline surged and his mind raced. He quickly tore at the dead woman’s clothing causing a few buttons to fly to the ground. Then, he took her right hand, the one that she had used to pick up the wrench, and raked her nails across the dead sentry’s cheek. He checked his handiwork. The sentry’s face was now deeply scratched, and the skin cells were under the girl’s fingernails.

  He tossed a few tools around to add to the appearance of a struggle. Lastly, he pulled the sentry’s body close to the girl, making it seem that they had been struggling. He tore the man’s shirt then placed a few strands of her hair in the sentry’s hand. More DNA.

  He pulled out his phone and reported the incident to the senior military police officer on base. He came out as a hero. He reported that he had caught the sentry attacking the woman and intervened. Unfortunately, it had been too late. The sentry had broken her neck and was in a state of panic. He had screamed a death threat at McGowan, and McGowan had no alternative but to shoot the killer.

  McGowan was quite proud of his creativity in a time of crisis. Unfortunately for him, another sentry had observed the entire incident from the darkness beyond the motor pool. That soldier was an unwitting pawn of the Krakow Klub. He had already made quite a few extra dollars by reporting a few rather unimportant events to a low-level officer. This time, he would hit the big time because that officer was an agent of the Krakow Klub, and the information would prove most valuable to the organization.

  McGowan, a Lt. Colonel at the time, proved to be a prime candidate when a Krakow operative learned that his “heroic event” had been witnessed. The witness had been brazen enough to attempt to blackmail McGowan, who was already under the scrutiny of the Krakow Klub at the time. McGowan was in a desperate situation. The organization took care of the situation, and his future cooperation and loyalty was assured. The soldier who had witnessed the incident at the motor pool left the base on a patrol. He was never to be seen again. He was later listed as missing in action. And still is to this very day.

  In return for his loyalty to his new master, McGowan was put on the fast track for promotions, and he advanced through the ranks quickly. After several years, he received his first star.

  After several more years, McGowan, through behind-the-scenes machinations, now had his fourth star and was the commander at Fort Murray, one of the most important bases in the United States military command structure. His base was critical in supplying a rapid response group to aggressive actions in any part of the globe. McGowan had at his disposal almost 750,000 troops based in various parts of the world to call upon when configuring a response group for any situation, domestic or foreign. All he required to put a special force into action was an order from the Commander in Chief.

  ****

  Later that evening, Stoellar sat in the softly lit living room and gazed out at the dazzling display of city lights from the many buildings surrounding Central Park. The night scene always put him in a mellow mood and gave him the opportunity to consider his next move.

  After a few minutes, he picked up his secure satellite phone and called Number Two. Number Two was a trusted ally and had been the first person with whom he had shared his audacious plan. Number Two was also a billionaire, very ruthless in business, and very intelligent. They had forged the perfect partnership.

  They briefly discussed moving up their timetable for the United States. Number Two agreed th
at there would be little additional risk involved. “After all, Number One, once the first domino falls, the rest will tumble quickly. Other nations would surely not dare risk a confrontation with the mightiest military force in the world.”

  After that brief conversation, Stoellar continued to sit silently in the darkened room pondering his next steps carefully. Such a massive project would require the utmost coordination, planning, and skillful execution.

  His mood changed, and he began to think of the busy streets just outside his penthouse building. They would be alive with activity at this time of night. Cars would be starting and stopping in what could be considered well-orchestrated chaos. Where were they all going? What were they thinking? Their lives were totally unimportant to Stoellar. In his opinion, the masses were only marginally intelligent. They would follow any charismatic leader like sheep. But that was okay; he thought of himself as that leader, and he would control his flock with an iron hand.

  It was this perceived collective stupidity of the crowd that Stoellar counted on so heavily in his plan. The crowd would react to a crisis by panicking, and his well-trained minions would step in and take over. They were prepared to lead the crowd into the new order, and then there would be no turning back. By the time the crowd caught on to what was happening, it would be far, far too late.

  Stoellar had studied history extensively. He knew that the military would be crucial to his success. Hitler had successfully replaced the Weimar government without significant protest from the people. Only a few dared to speak up in opposition, and they were dealt with quickly. Most of them were discreetly eliminated. The military remained passive as Hitler catered to them extensively.

  Another important factor, Stoellar noted, was you must have a scapegoat, someone to take the blame for the chaos. Hitler had used the Jews. Stoellar had several scapegoats in mind for his use. He believed multiple stooges were preferable to just one.

  Stoellar would use his knowledge of the military to his advantage. All US military enlisted men are required to swear an oath to obey the Commander in Chief, which is the president.

  However, officers swear an oath to protect and defend the Constitution. That little difference would be a key factor in the takeover. Stoellar believed that the military was controllable by a relatively few properly placed high-level officers who would bear allegiance to him, not the Constitution.

  Based on the wording of the oath, officers could potentially disobey the president if his orders were determined to be unconstitutional. Nevertheless, to disobey a presidential order would be extremely dangerous, no matter how justified it might be. Stoellar knew that the vast majority of officers would never have the intestinal fortitude to refuse to obey an order of the Commander in Chief that was passed down from his commanding officer. The few brave souls who might do so would be quickly isolated and then eliminated.

  Stoellar had long believed that the American public had little interest, and even less knowledge, about what is constitutional and what is not. In fact, he believed that a significant number couldn’t even tell you what the Constitution was all about, much less how it came to be.

  The Krakow Klub plan to take over the government was much like that of the Hitler’s Nazi Party in one respect. They intended to use the election process for the final phase of their takeover. The people of Germany elected Adolf Hitler. Once he was in office legally, he quickly abandoned the legal process and moved to take absolute control of the nation. A neutral military was essential to that plan.

  The Krakow Klub would follow that same scenario. Once they had the White House under their control, they would move to control, or at least neutralize, the military. Once martial law was in place, the rule of law could be abandoned and they would be free to get rid of all resistance quickly and without due process. It was not a complex plan. That is what made it so dangerous. It was simple enough to be possible.

  The new president, Henry Wilkinson, was a small part of the plan. His primary function would be to put Carla Montrose into the vice presidency. Then, he would no longer be useful. Indeed, he would need to be eliminated. And that act would be intentionally performed in a spectacular manner. A staged terrorist attack! It would be horrible. And it would the beginning of the end of democracy in America.

  There would be numerous other attacks in several parts of the country. The government would declare a national crisis. The new president, Carla Montrose, would declare martial law to handle the crisis. The public would not suspect a thing; not until it was too late.

  Any question about the rules of succession that put Montrose in office would soon be forgotten in the ensuing chaos. It would be too late for the Supreme Court to act. In fact, there probably would be no Supreme Court by that time.

  Carla was feisty and had no fear of anything or anyone. She was one of Stoellar’s more unique creations. She was prone to rather unconventional behavior, but that only intrigued him. Her tantrums and antics amused him at times. He secretly hated her, but she was perfect for her role, which was meant to be a temporary one.

  All Americans have the right to bear arms, and many do just that, but Stoellar brushed them off as a threat just as one might brush off an offending mosquito. They were much like mosquitoes in his mind. They were large in numbers, relatively speaking, but not organized and trained. Individually, they might inflict a temporary discomfort, but little more. They would be no match for the military. And once the country was under firm control, guns could be easily confiscated if needed.

  Stoellar was most pleased with himself. That ungrateful traitor of a president who resigned without his approval had possibly done him a favor. Maybe this little inconvenience would be a blessing in disguise since his plan could now be advanced by more than two years. He was delighted that he would see the fruits of his labors while he was still young and strong enough to enjoy them.

  At last, he got up from his chair and pressed a switch that would electronically close the massive curtains that separated him from the outside world. Stoellar turned on the lights and instantly illuminated the vast penthouse filled with the finest furnishings from the most famous designers of the day. He picked up the nearest phone and called his favorite restaurant, Stacy’s, to make a reservation for dinner. There would be no problem. He could go at any time, with any number of guests. In fact, on one occasion, they had opened the restaurant on a day off just to please him.

  ****

  After the meal, Erik returned to his penthouse and again opened the curtains to reveal the magnificent city lights. There was one more thing he wanted to do before the day was over. He wanted to talk with Number Eleven. The general rule within the Krakow Klub was that messages moved from one to fifteen, skipping the two numbers of deceased members, and of course, the number thirteen.

  As Number One, Stoellar had the singular privilege of talking directly to all other members at any time he chose.

  Number Eleven was the only female member of the group. She was Chinese by birth and of impeccable ancestry. Her family had amassed enormous wealth before the revolution and had been able to hide it safely away in another country prior to the Communist takeover in mainland China.

  Number Eleven had a unique history in the organization. Her father had originally been recruited by Stoellar and assigned that number. After a few years, he had earned the utmost respect of Stoellar for his expertise in Far East affairs and especially his contributions to the bottom line of the Krakow Klub. He seemed destined to be second-in-command one day.

  He was as ruthless in business as Stoellar, but he had one weak spot: his only daughter. He had planned for her to rule his financial empire from the day she was born, and she possessed all his talents for business and his thirst for power.

  Number Eleven had always prided himself on his physical strength and good health, but even the mighty cannot conquer all things. He was unexpectedly diagnosed with an incurable disease that would surely take his life in months.

  He approached Stoellar with
a very lucrative offer. His daughter would take his place as Number Eleven in the Krakow Klub and he, in return, would contribute a sizeable portion of his estate to the organization.

  Stoellar agreed to consider the offer to show his respect for his associate. He arranged a meeting with the daughter. And, he never regretted doing so.

  She was a young and very beautiful woman on the outside. That made her easy to look at, but it was the inside that attracted Stoellar even more. Like Stoellar, she was of extraordinary intelligence and possessed a ruthlessness only surpassed by his own. She would be the youngest member of the group, by a large margin. After their meeting, he was more than happy to accept his dying partner’s offer. There would be a new Number Eleven, and he would mentor her personally.

  He thought of her as “The Dragon Lady.” She was fascinating and most beautiful. She was also fluent in many languages and skilled in martial arts. Stoellar found her to be the most interesting and perhaps the most dangerous person that he had ever met, regardless of age or sex.

  Stoellar used the enormous amount of money, amounting to several billion, as a valid reason for accepting the transfer of membership. The other members, some reluctantly, finally agreed to accept it. The Dragon Lady quickly became Stoellar’s most trusted confidante and strongest ally.

  With that in mind, he had made the wise decision to speak with her concerning his updated plans.

  Stoellar knew that she was in New York at the moment, and he invited Number Eleven to his penthouse for their meeting. She was one of the very few people ever afforded that privilege, and she knew it. Thirty minutes later, his doorbell rang, and he opened it himself. His protégée entered dressed in a black pantsuit and a low-cut white lace blouse. At her throat, she wore a demure necklace of perfect white pearls.

  She swept past him with her usual catlike grace and took the chair with the most spectacular view. She remained silent and held Stoellar’s eyes with a very direct and intense look. He bowed slightly.